The luxury of empty space - An Emperor's prerogative

9th June 2013 - It was a wet, miserable day in Beijing as I set off on my own to explore the Forbidden City.  (How could one go all the way to Beijing and not go?)



Home to twenty four emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties, there isan amazing uniformity to the Zijin Cheng, quite unlike the Topkapi at Istanbul, where each emperor added his eccentricity to the structure!

I've used the Chinese names for buildings, gates and halls.  And so, "dian" seems to mean hall, "gong" palace and "men" gate.   I find the whole Chinese-English translations unsatisfactory, and quite often comic .  I wonder why they do it.  We do not for example, translate Taj Mahal or Mount Kaliash or Kedarnath, so why should they? 

The outer walls, to access the Wu men gate.

The entrance  into the complex is via these little bridges, as Mao looks on.

The huge courtyard in front of the Wu Men Gate.  This courtyard was used for a lot of royal events, so the emperor came I guess to that balcony above, and observed whatever he had to - royal decrees, prisoners of war, etc, and they did not enter the Forbidden City.  Until this point, the entry is free.  To go through the little "tunel" at the back into the complex is ticketed.

There are five of these towers over the Gate - Wu feng Lou.  This courtyard is basically over the moat that encircles the palace.

We wandered out to see the moat, on the first day.  Nobody comes here it seems, it was quiet and a nice place to sit and daydream!

As the drizzle continued, I walked in to the Outer Court, and I just loved the Golden Water Bridges and the canals that were worked into this Outer Court.  I pictured the royalty of old taking walks across these bridges, and enjoying the water flowing in these canals

A Mallard waddled by in the water, which served as a reservoir and water supply as well (in times of seige I guess) for the complex.

There are five such bridges, and this is the view towards the Taihe Men -  Gate of Supreme Harmony of the Outer Court.  A sea of umbrellas, as the rain refused to let up!  Even with so many tourists thronging the place, the complex looked forbiddingly large.  A pair of bronze lions sit on either side of the Gate.

This is the lioness, with its paw on a cub, and from the Ming period.  See the male from the Qing period here.

Through the Taihen Men, and overlooking the huge Taihe Dian Square.  It is a massive piece of empty real estate - 30,000 sqm I read somewhere!

This Taihe Dian hall is one of the largest woodens structures in China, and sits atop a three-level marble base. 

A roof detail...

As I took refuge from the rain under the eaves of this hall, my eyes were drawn to all the various little details in the decorations all over.

The beautifully painted roof and beams had an amazing collection of motifs and designs.

...dragons on the beams

...and this was the underside of the eaves!

In the large balcony of this hall are a motley collection of animal bronzes, grain measures, and even a sundial!

A pair of cranes for good luck....

...the tortoise for (quite aptly) longevity.....

...and a sundial!!

Zhonge Dian, where the emperor could rest (on his way from the back to the front?!)

And here's where he rested.

The Baohe Dian throne.  (He changed his clothes here, the Emperor I mean before some grand ceremonies.)  The Chinese running full length is a couplet written by Emperor Qianlong.

More dragons everywhere....

Qianqing Gong, with a few of the 308 copper vats that are strewn across the campus, which were the equivalent of fire hydrants for the wooden palace structures.

Eaves, roofs and more details

My favourite English translation.  From the time of Emperor Yngzheng, the third Qing emperor, this hall attained significance as the living quarters of the incumbent.  I wonder what would be a more apt translation of Yangxin.

The Imperial Garden to the rear/north gate

Mosaics on the floor

More ornate eaves

The northern (exit) gate.  Jingshan Park ahead.  So you get out, very far away from where you got in!

The massive moat surrounding the complex is more evident this northern side.

I went all around the complex, left on Jingshan Street and walked all the way down Beichang street.  This is a very tony neighbourhood by the way, and it was an enjoyable walk in the rain, as I made my way to Tiananmen West station and back to the hotel.

Maybe it was the weather or the fact that I was on my own, but the Forbidden City left me cold (and wet!!)  and kind of unimpressed.

The lions of Gir

I saw this article in The Hindu today, and it reminded me of our 2011 trip, and our Kutchi summer. We made our own "lion movie",  and I got a history lesson at Junagadh.


Pride of the jungle - The Hindu

ZERIN ANKLESARIA

AP A lioness at a drinking hole inside the sanctuary.

TOPICS

Come October, and season begins in Gir, the home of the fabulous Asiatic lion. Zerin Anklesaria was there recently and, thankfully, lived to tell the tale.

On a quiet night, so they say, the roar of an adult male lion can be heard five miles away. No such roaring welcome greeted us as we drove into Sasan Gir with the moon riding high, but we were certainly in lion country, with road signs pointing the way to Mane Land Jungle Lodge, Lion’s Paw Resort, Pride of Gir, Elsa’s Lair, and so on.

For me, this was a sentimental journey, for my father had served under the Nawab of Junagadh before Independence and as children we had visited Gir, staying in palatial grandeur at The Royal Hunting Lodge. The Nawab, a great animal lover, rarely hunted and it was chiefly maintained for Indian rajas and British VIPs for whom a lion was a prized trophy.

A party of 20 of us stayed there for four memorable days in sybaritic luxury. This was soon after the then Viceroy, Lord Linlithgow, had left. The cellars were still stocked with the choicest wines, and the larders with cheeses, jams and canned fruit from Australia. The chefs cooked up mind-boggling meats, game and desserts.

Six of us little girls were allotted the master bedroom where the centrepiece was an enormous double bed with an 8-inch box-spring mattress imported especially for the Viceregal couple. Far from prying adult eyes, we spent our evenings using it as a trampoline to see who could jump the highest. The bed survived the onslaught. The mattress did not.

The world outside presented a harrowing contrast. A single tarred road led to the hunting lodge, and the Forest Officer occupied the only other building. Jeep tracks meandered through the forest and the Maldhari herdsmen merged with the hard, brown earth, living in poverty with their cattle in villages scattered across the 1400 sq. km of the sanctuary. In this semi-desert region agriculture was impossible.

Coming here now what a difference I found. We drove in from Rajkot on ribbon-smooth roads to the peripheral areas of the sanctuary — all neat, well-planned and free of garbage. With tourism has come unimaginable prosperity. Accommodation ranges from dharamsalas and budget hotels to the lordly Taj; canals supply water for gardens and cultivation; and local children study at an English medium school.

Our first safari started off rather tamely. I had the front seat in the jeep and couldn’t hear what the guide was saying. My information came solely from the grumpy driver who pointed out ‘snake’, ‘deer’, ‘mongoose’ and other uninspiring fauna in a single word. ‘Budd’ had me stumped, till he amplified. ‘Peacock’, he said.

It was just half an hour to closing time when we got the exciting news. A tracker came and whispered to the guide, who passed along the magic word ‘lion’. We took our place in a line of jeeps and waited in reverential silence as if in church. At last it was our turn to enter the sanctum and we moved down a track deep into the jungle. There, under the shade of a tree, we came upon them, two lionesses and five cubs, feasting on a nilgai. A thrilling sight but a poor photo-op, for the evening sun cast too many shadows and the lionesses were sitting low in the long grass, while bits and pieces of cub flashed in and out of the frame three-quarters two pointy ears, half a puckered face, a raised paw, a tail tip.

Later we encountered two angry lionesses rearing up on their hind legs, clawing and snarling at each other. Photo-op? Alas no! They were so enraged that our jeep had to keep a safe distance.

Back at the resort, everyone was envious. Some unfortunates had spent a packet on as many as three safaris, and seen only monkey, deer, and, of course, ‘budd’. Tourists often think that a lion sighting is guaranteed and, when disappointed, are vocal in their displeasure. A manager was once rudely roused from his slumbers by angry guests who had been out in vain since 5 a.m. They staged a gherao and shouted slogans, ‘Paisa vasool, paisa vasool’, demanding their money back.

The kings of the forest are as lazy as feudal monarchs. The male has only to guard his territory and propagate, which he does with maniacal zest. Everything else is left to the lioness. She must hunt for prey, feed and train her cubs and protect them from predators, including other lions. An adult male is the lord of his territory and eliminates all future rivals including his progeny, knowing that otherwise they will kill him when in their prime. The ‘sons’ in a pride are therefore highly prized, pampered and protected, both by their mothers and the Forest Officers. Patriarchy is as invidious in the jungle as outside it.

Lions are far more human-friendly than leopards or tigers, but only as long as one keeps within limits. In earlier days, the ‘pagis’ or traditional trackers, ever eager to display their affinity with the animal to visiting dignitaries, would place a handkerchief on the mane of a sleeping lion with the help of a stick, while another would retrieve it. However, one day, legend has it that the lion suddenly woke up, and both entertainment and entertainer came to a gory end.

Then there was the biker on his way to a local temple. Seeing a gorgeously maned specimen sitting quietly by the roadside, he whipped out his phone-camera and edged closer and closer until the lion took umbrage, and with a mighty swipe of its paw dispatched the foolish young man to the other world. In the jungle this lordly animal is king, and mere humans who disrespect his royal status pay a heavy price.

Jill and Johnny

 

I would like to tell you a story if you are free
About what happened in Delhi at Terminal Three
I saw this carpet cleaner
Who could not be any keener
To go on a cleaning spree.

Every crumb did he get
Not one scrap did he forget.
Brought his missus to work
And I think thats a perk,
Made sure high standards were met.

They waddled around on feet red and scrawny
Their bodies blue-grey, and no, not tawny.
You had to admire their necks
But not their poo or their pecks
The pigeon duo that I called Jill and Johnny.

The Yonghegong temple

8th June 2013 - 4pm.
An overcast day, and after a morning wandering around Tiananmen square, and a couple of granola bars for lunch I set off to explore the Lama temple, suitably intrigued by the name.

Danny, a friendly voice on the phone still, (we hadn't met as yet) gave me wonderful directions on how to use the subway and to go to Yonghegong station, from where the temple was a short walk.

And I was transported, from this Beijing.......

.....to this!  Low-rise and so Chinese!

I knew I was getting close to the temple! 

The colourful entrance

I was captivated by this simple and beautiful walkway in to the complex.  I was calmed by the green, the chirping birds, and this sudden shutting out of the frenzy of the street.

This complex was originally a palace for a princeling, who converted it into a lamasery when he became king in 1722.  This temple survived the Cultural Revolution (according to Wikipedia), due to the good offices of Zhou Enlai.

Inscriptions on the massive bell

The East Stele Pavillion - it has a huge white marble stele, on which there are inscriptions in Manchurian and Han, recording how the palace became a lamasery.

A common symbol across monuments in Beijing - a lion.  They are like our dwarapaalikas, symbolically guarding  the dwelling and its inhabitants.  This is the male one, with mouth open and paw on a ball.  (The lioness will have her paw on a cub.)  But I thought those droopy ears gave it a dog-like look.  Now this is a Qing-period bronze lion, different from the Ming period lions.

This is the extent of worship that I saw besides the chanting monks.  (Outside the Devaraja Hall)

Within the Devaraja hall was a line up of four heavenly Kings, each with a different weapon in hand.

This one did not seem to approve of my activities!

The main Yonghegong hall.  Yonghegong means everlasting peace and harmony.  So this hall had these Buddhas - the one straight ahead is Gautama Buddha, the one on the left is Maithreya and if I am not mistaken Kasyapa is hidden by the pillar on the right.  The eighteen arhats lined the walls.  I loved these Chinese depictions of the arhats, so expressive were the faces.  Unfortunately it was too dark inside for me to take photographs, and I did not think it good to use the flash.  I only have this memory of the laughing one, the fat one, and one who looked distinctly Indian as well.

Add caption

The beautiful tangkas on the walls

What is this script?  Isn't there a trace of sanskrit in it?

In the Falun Hall - Statue of Tsongkhapa, the founder of the Geluk sect of Tibetan Buddhism.  This was the hall where the monks studied, with those modern table lamps nowadays.

The roof above

You can hear the chanting of the monks in this video.

I was glad I visited this complex, a hint of Japan as well for me with those pine trees.

As I emerged back onto the street and the bustle of Beijing, the phone rang again, and it was Danny, a little anxious I think, as to how I had fared.  On hearing that I had navigated myself quite competently, he urged me to explore the little street opposite the temple where there were a lot of quaint Chinese shops and local eateries.  I left with a tinge of regret though, as I hurried back to catch the rest of the conference group and a Beijing Duck dinner that never was.

But that is another story!

A walk in the woods - The Hindu

A walk in the woods - The Hindu

A walk in the woods

Akila Kannadasan

• 
  Special Arrangement A slice of Nature at the industrial estate
• 
  Special Arrangement Shikra
• 
  Special Arrangement White-breasted kingfisher
• 
  Special Arrangement A butterfly at Simpson
• 
  Special Arrangement Lesser golden backed woodpecker
• 
  Special Arrangement A slice of Nature at the industrial estate
• 
  Special Arrangement Marpig robin 
  
  

  A birding expedition at Simpson Industrial Estate, Sembiam, teaches one valuable lessons about Nature

  Where there is green, there are birds. The Simpson Estate at Sembiam is proof of this. The sprawling campus has over 22,000 trees, according to the estate manager P. Sivaramamurthy. There was a time when the estate had the privilege of hosting some 20,000 birds! Their numbers have dropped significantly, he adds. Nevertheless, I join a group of 17 boys from The Nature Trust for a bird-watching expedition at the Estate. Strapping trees, winding roads, the smell of the earth… we are intoxicated and greedy — for the sight of something as magnificent as the pitta. Will we get to see it? Simpson, however, has other plans — valuable lessons on bird-watching…

  Lesson 1

  Follow that birdcall

  It’s the best thing to do if you have an untrained eye. Hear a birdcall? Train your eye in the direction. If you’re precise, you could spot the fellow without difficulty. At Simpson, we hear the babblers before we see them; we fall for the melodic ‘pi pe pi pe’ of the tailor bird before we fall for the actual bird; the magpie robin’s ‘kee kee’ attracts us more than its smooth black and white plumage. Then there are the birdcalls whose source I fail to trace. But I’m not complaining; the orchestra is fascinating enough.

  Lesson 2

  Stay close to the best birdwatcher in the group

  You stand there, peering hard into the canopy for a sign of fluttering wings, and can’t see a thing. Do not worry. For, there’s always someone in the group who can sniff out a bird kilometres away. I stick to S. Hemanth Kumar. He is the first to spot the magpie robin, the first to show me the gorgeous lesser golden backed woodpecker. With him around, I’m sure I won’t miss anything. “What’s that bird?” I ask after a birdcall. “Female Asian koel,” he shoots back, without the slightest glance upwards!

  Lesson 3

  Be patient

  Patience, they say, is the key to a successful bird-watching expedition. The shikra teaches me this. We halt a distance from a tree, peering at the bird that has its back turned towards us. And so we wait for the bird to swivel its head; hoping to see its eye colour that helps differentiate male from female. The shikra doesn’t turn. But it flies off a little later, giving us a quick view of its eyes. They are yellow — it’s a girl!

  Lesson 4

  No sudden movements

  If only the parakeets hadn’t sensed our presence! At a turn in the path lined with neem trees, a group of about 10 rose-ringed parakeets feasts on the fruits fallen on the ground. It’s a beautiful sight — but we are not all that lucky. A movement in the group disturbs them and they fly away. Our parakeet moment is lost forever.

  Lesson 5

  Spare time for inhabitants along the trail too

  Spotted owlet, barbet, jungle crow, white-breasted kingfisher… as we take in the birds along the way, we almost miss a shy chap who crosses the road. It’s a mongoose — he probably noticed us coming as he poked his head out of the vegetation. He scampers off in lightning speed. We also spot blood-red cotton bugs. They look like little rubies on wet earth — we would never have seen them had we been too busy peering into the branches.

  The expedition ends and we haven’t seen the pitta; our notebooks don’t have long lists of birds spotted to boast of at the end of the day. But, we have an excellent time looking for birds inside an industry that makes tractors. We listen to birdcalls, smell intoxicating flowers, admire butterflies playing in the sun, follow strange-looking insects…

  And just then I realise that the most important lesson in bird-watching is to let go; to be one with the environment.